


Concentration

by notmykink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmykink/pseuds/notmykink
Summary: Iwaizumi is wearing one of his stupid t-shirts to practice on a particularly hot day and Oikawa is suffering.





	Concentration

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write smth abt,, that t-shirt from the cross team match game,, oikawa saying he couldn't concentrate when iwa was wearing something like _that_ and. uh the smut part was just smth i made up as i went i guess  
>  still trying to claw my way out of a slump im sorryyy

During the summer break, the team practice sessions are always more casual unless they’re playing a practice match. Casual means they can show up in whatever clothes are fit for 

Casual means Hajime shows up in his black Nike shorts that he bought during their first year in high school — Tooru knows this because he was with him at the time — that are just a bit shorter than his normal ones and just a bit tighter, since he apparently hasn’t gotten the memo that he has actually  _ grown _ since then. 

The team doesn’t mind it at all.  _ Tooru _ wouldn’t mind it either if it wasn’t for the fact that summer and Hajime is a bad enough mix as it is, the heat making him prone to pulling off his t-shirt or stealing Tooru’s water bottle when he needs it. Or the fact that the sun and sweat makes his skin glisten, as if he doesn't’t already look good enough, or how those slightly shorter shorts make the tan line on his thighs visible, and how all of this is very much challenging Tooru’s — pretty remarkable, if you ask him — ability to focus.

When Hajime shows up, donning a stupid white T-shirt with the kanji for ‘concentration’ written on the chest area, Tooru wonders which gods he has wronged to deserve this treatment.

The weather is ridiculously hot today, and unlike usual, Hajime hasn’t rolled up his sleeves, and the way they’re clinging to his upper arms, just slightly too tight, showcasing his muscles perfectly, is  _ just _ enough to ruin Tooru’s concentration completely.

Tooru had no time to practice his serves before Hajime had arrived, too busy guiding Yahaba through some techniques for reading the opposite team, but he’s well aware that he’s not going to get any proper practice in now that Hajime is  _ here _ , just  _ being, _ walking around, looking like—like— _ ugh. _

He tries continuing the practice as usual, he really does, but even when Tooru wants to comment on the intensity with which Hajime is gulping down the water from  _ his _ bottle, Tooru’s eyes fix on a stray drop of water sliding down the side of Hajime’s throat instead, until it disappears under the neckline of his shirt, and Tooru loses his concentration again, along with his ability to speak.

He does get to practice his serve, after some pretty useless setting practice, with too little focus on precision, too much staring at how Hajime’s shirt is riding up his stomach, exposing his midriff, or how it moves when he raises his arm behind his head, the fabric following the movement of his shoulder muscles. The stupid kanji printed in the front keeps mocking him, drawing in all of his attention, ironically making it completely impossible to concentrate on the ball in front of him.

The serving practice helps, because Hajime wants to practice receives and Tooru has a  _ lot  _ of pent up tension that works very when put into making his spikes more powerful, and the black kanji on the white t-shirt — now, dampened with sweat, sticking to his chest in ways that makes Tooru want to fling the ball across the court even harder — works even better as a target. 

Tooru’s doesn’t hold back anything when he serves, and now that he can fully put all his attention on aiming right towards Hajime, it’s a lot easier to keep his concentration. His precision is still slightly off compared to usual, but every resounding thud of the ball hitting when Hajime receives it back — some too perfectly to the position of the setter, others bouncing off to the side or the back — makes Tooru smirk in satisfaction before he reaches for another ball, raising it in one hand as he lifts his index finger towards Hajime, pointing at him with a smirk. Hajime grins up at him, face reddened from exertion **,** his legs bent slightly in a receiving position, his entire body drawn like a bow, ready to keep the ball in the air. Tooru watches him dive for the ball in satisfaction after he has sent it flying, eyes fixed on the ‘concentration’ printed across his chest, black on white, licking his lips and tasting salt.

 

After practice, they’re both red-faced and panting from exertion, not unlike the rest of the team, and the thought of a hot shower in the school gym with no possibility to alter the temperature is unappealing enough for the lot of them to go directly home without changing out of their gym clothes, with the promise of an actual cold shower in their own houses.

They stop by a konbini on their way home, the cool breeze from the AC as they enter the small store a welcoming change from the baking sun, and they buy a bottle of Pocari Sweat each while Tooru sneaks in his favorite snacks, grinning in triumph when Hajime only gives him a look after eyeing the milk bread, paying for the both of them.

Hajime finishes his bottle before they’ve even reached his place, and Tooru is too unfocused, too busy staring at Hajime’s back and how the sweat-soaked fabric sticks to it to do anything else than instinctively do as he say, handing his own bottle over when Hajime reaches his hand out for it.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Tooru yelps as he realises what’s going on, as if he hadn’t just willingly handed his bottle over,  _ after _ Hajime has already brought it to his mouth, only earning a smirk in reply after Hajime has put down the bottle, scrolling the lid back on.

“What’s up with you today? You seem so distracted,” Hajime says, turning fully towards Tooru as they stand outside Hajime’s house, and Tooru eyes the kanji on his chest, opening his bottle again and drinking from it as he watches Hajime reaching into his pocket for his house keys.

“It’s too hot! And how should I be able to concentrate when you’re wearing that kind of t-shirt?” Tooru says, screwing the lid back on and waving his bottle at Hajime before Hajime fishes out the key, opening the door and letting them both inside.

Both of them exhale in relief when the temperature drops several degrees, kicking off their shoes in the genkan before they make their way upstairs.

“What are you talking about?” Hajime asks, sounding  _ genuinely _ confused, as if he hasn’t noticed the  _ whole team _ being distracted during practice or the long looks he’s been gathering all day. Tooru turns around at the top of the stairs, looking down at him.

“You’re an idiot, an idiot with an atrocious fashion sense,” Tooru says, crossing his arms over his chest. Hajime only sneaks his way around Tooru, walking past him into his room, and Tooru follows with an offended huff at Hajime ignoring him.

Hajime turns around to face Tooru before falling back onto his bed, a small moan of pleasure escaping his mouth at finally being able to lie down after a rough practice session. Tooru can relate, but the first thing he does is turn on the electric fan in the corner of the room that he knows as well as his own, before he slowly walks over, eyeing Hajime on the bed, eyes fixing on the black print on his shirt  _ again, _ and he grits his teeth in annoyance.

“Off with the shirt, Iwa-chan,” Tooru commands when he reaches the bedside, his knees pressing against Hajime’s thighs, before he swings his legs over Hajime’s, straddling him as he leans in over him.

“What—why?” Hajime says, looking up at him with a hazy gaze before they lock eyes, something seeming to shift in his expression. “Is it really hindering your concentration that much?” he asks, amusement in his voice, and Tooru can see the corners of his mouth creep up into a small smirk. 

Tooru reaches down, grabbing the hem of Hajime’s shirt and pulling it up, pressing it against Hajime’s closed lips, and Hajime opens his mouth in shock before biting onto the fabric, holding it up by himself as Tooru reaches his hand up next to Hajime’s head again to hold up his own weight. When he looks down the shirt is completely ruffled up, the fabric curled together at his neck, the kanji crumbled into something intelligible, holding the shirt from falling down and covering his chest again. 

Tooru breathes in, staring at the view laid out in front of him, his tanned skin, muscles flexing under Tooru’s gaze, the six pack he was oh so happy with showing off when it first got really visible in their first year of high school — truly the best and worst time for Tooru — the barely-there tan line of right above the elastic band of Hajime’s boxers.

“Iwa-chan is so mean,” Tooru hums as he leans down over Hajime, smirking at him. The heat emitting from Hajime’s body isn’t exactly what Tooru wants right now, but he’s willing to compromise the coolness granted by the electric fan in the corner of the room, whirring away bravely like it has been every summer for the last 7 years, if Hajime is willing to let him lick the sweat off his abs.

Hajime is staring up at him, mouth still full of fabric, anticipation clear in his eyes. Tooru swallows the lump that has gotten stuck in his throat, suddenly unsure of what to do.

“We should shower,” he says, as if that’s the only reason he can make up for why they should get undressed _right_ now, but Hajime nods slightly, followed by an affirmative grunt, opening his mouth and pushing the t-shirt out with his tongue. It only slides down halfway over his chest, but Tooru forces himself up, reaching down to give Hajime a hand. Hajime takes it, pulling himself up the same second Tooru leans back, pulling himself, and the unexpected added momentum makes Hajime fall forwards and stumble right into Tooru’s arms, their foreheads colliding with a ‘thumb’ before Hajime grabs his shoulders for stability, taking a step back as Tooru reaches his hand up to touch his forehead where they hit, grimacing in pain.

Tooru wipes the sweat off his forehead, now that he’s touching it, and reaches down to wipe it off in Hajime’s stupid t-shirt, earning a surprised grunt in reply before Hajime pulls him in, pressing his lips against Tooru’s impatiently, harshly. Tooru slides the tip of his tongue over his chapped lips, wetting them, before he pushes it inside Hajime’s mouth, deepening the kiss.

Hajime’s hands stay on Tooru’s shoulders as they awkwardly start moving towards the bathroom, the door to his room still open, barely making their way over the doorstep without stumbling, but managing to do it anyway with the added support of Hajime’s hands on his shoulders, his grip steady and solid.

The door to the bathroom is only cracked open slightly, but Tooru manages to force his foot into the slit **,** kicking it open completely as he pulls Hajime along with him, letting go for two seconds to pull his own t-shirt over his head, the sweat making the fabric stick slightly to his back. He discards it on the floor, raising his foot to pull off one sock, then the other, pushing his boxers down over his ass and wiggling out of them as he enters the shower, grabbing the showerhead while Hajime is _still_ struggling with taking off his socks, still not out of that stupid t-shirt _or_ his boxers. Tooru raises the showerhead towards Hajime, turning on the cold water with his free hand. 

“How come you’re not this fast at undressing after practice— _ EEK! _ “ 

Hajime yelps indignantly, his voice cracking mid-sentence, pulling his other sock off as he jumps to the side, but Tooru simply aims the faucet after him again, smirk widening as the water slowly drenches the t-shirt completely, making it stick to Hajime’s chest in a way that should be illegal, the white fabric turning almost see-through when wet.

“I won’t get to touch you after when we’re with the team,” Tooru explains lightly, just as Hajime jumps towards him, joining him in the shower, grabbing the showerhead from his hands and turning it towards Tooru’s own face. 

The high-pitched whine escaping him when he feels the cold water wetten his hair is short-lived, because Tooru attacks back instantly, grabbing the faucet and hanging it on the holder on the wall before he reaches out for Hajime, grabbing the white t-shirt and pulling him in for a kiss, using so much force that their teeth click against each other uncomfortably hard, both of them too concentrated on the kiss to mind the pain, even as the water drenches the both of them, their hair falling down into their faces, sticking to their foreheads, and the temperature dropping to uncomfortably cold levels. 

Hajime shivers, pulling back and raising his shoulders to his ears, already cooled down by the water, but when he moves to turn up the temperature, Tooru’s eyes slide down to his chest, eyeing his nipples, hardened by the cold water, accentuated by the white fabric clinging to his skin.

Tooru waits for Hajime to be done changing the temperature of the water to something more resembling lukewarm, pulling him in violently as he kneels on the tiled floor of the small shower **,** pulling Hajime with him, slow enough for Hajime not to fall before he can find his foothold, kneeling with him on the floor. 

Tooru doesn’t waste time pushing him up against the wall, and Hajime gasps again, the coldness of the smooth tiles surprising him, but Tooru is too concentrated on his chest, eyes fixing on that stupid print on his t-shirt again.

He reaches over, grabbing the hem again and rolling it upwards, the heavy, wet fabric staying up when he pushes it up to Hajime’s shoulders before leaning in, mouthing directly at Hajime’s nipple, his hand reaching down to pinch around the other.

The loud, unabridged moan Hajime lets out is barely stifled by the sound of the shower running, and it goes straight to Tooru’s own cock, twitching between his legs, but he ignores it in favor of reaching his free hand down to cup Hajime’s groin, remembering that he’s still wearing boxers, but the thin fabric is clinging to his erection in a different way than the t-shirt against his chest, and Tooru finds that he  _ really _ doesn’t mind when Hajime moans  _ again _ , this time not as loud, but just as affected by Tooru’s touch.

The sounds Hajime is letting out are  _ very _ distracting, but the way Hajime’s back arches as he twirls his tongue around the hardened nipple is grounding Tooru, keeping his concentration fixed, and he continues to mouth lazily at the nipple, the water still spraying down on them making it a far wetter situation than what he can usually achieve with just his own saliva, the skin slick and wet under his fingers teasing the other nipple.

Tooru pinches it lightly, nibbling at the other one with his teeth, and Hajime growls, reaching up and tugging at his hair in an attempt at pulling him off.

“I need— _ now _ ,” Hajime says, and judging from the ravenous look he’s giving Tooru or how his cock is twitching under Tooru’s hand,  _ still _ covered by the fabric of his boxers, he isn’t going to last long if Tooru continues like this.

“You’re still clothed, so unfair,” Tooru teases, his fingers fidgeting over the elastic band of Hajime’s boxers, and Hajime groans, leaning back against the wall for support as he pushes his knees together, raising his ass from his legs and letting Tooru pull them down, his erection bopping out from underneath the second Tooru frees it. Tooru licks his lips, blinking drops of water away from his eyelashes as he looks Hajime over, tugging the boxers down further, but they get stuck on the middle of Hajime’s thighs, unable to be pulled down further. “Turn around?” Tooru asks, tapping Hajime’s thigh with two fingers. 

Hajime obliges with a low grunt, pushing himself away from the wall before turning around, trying to find a way to lean over on all fours within the limited space, but he seems to give up on the feat, instead placing one hand outside the shower, leaning over for balance as Tooru pulls his boxers down to his knees completely, pulling them off one knee at a time as Hajime lifts them to help.

When Tooru has pulled off the boxers completely, he discards them outside the shower — tries not to think of the mess they’re making — before pressing one knee between Hajime’s legs, nudging them slightly open as he leans in over him. He presses his chest against Hajime’s back, and his own length _throbs_ as he finally presses it up against Hajime’s ass, unable to keep a low whimper from escaping his own lips as he grinds up against Hajime, sliding in between his asscheeks, the tip of his cock pressing against Hajime’s balls underneath him.

Tooru reaches a hand down, pressing the tips of his fingers against the floor to hold up some of his own weight, unable to reach with his whole palm as he’s leaned in over Hajime’s back, even though he’s that much taller.

He rolls his hips, grinding in against Hajime’s, pressing himself against his backside, and Hajime leans backwards to meet him, grinding up against Tooru’s cock before pressing his knees and legs together, nudging his shoulder up against where Tooru is resting his chin on it to gain his attention.

It takes Tooru a second to realise what he wants him to do, lifting his knee from between Hajime’s legs, just as Hajime presses his own thighs together, reaching up underneath himself, taking a few moments to find and grab Tooru’s cock, cupping it and pressing it in between his own thighs, pressing them together tightly again.

Tooru groans, raising his chin from Hajime’s shoulder only to lean down and bite at the junction between his neck and shoulder, right over the neckline of the t-shirt, earning another groan from Hajime, a mix of pain and pleasure. 

Tooru reaches his other hand up under Hajime, sliding it over his chest and pushing the fabric of the T-shirt away to tease his fingers over Hajime’s nipple again. The t-shirt clings to the backside of Tooru’s hand, but he only nudges it out of the way, trailing the tip of his finger in a circle around Hajime’s nipple before pinching it lightly. Hajime jolts at this, moaning out loud and leaning his head back, so Tooru continues, still thrusting in between his thighs, the slickness of the shower water still falling over them, still just warm enough to be comfortable, helping with the friction. Tooru leans his head back, face tilted upwards towards the shower head, his eyes squeezed shut to keep the water out as he enjoys the sensations, jerking his hips harder in between Hajime’s asscheeks and thighs, biting his lip to keep from yelling Hajime’s name out loud.

Tooru comes, hot and sudden, his hips jerking shakily, out of rhythm, and Hajime’s thigh muscles tenses, pressing against his cock as he pulses, coming right between Hajime’s legs, his cock sliding out from between Hajime’s legs when he jerks too far back, instead pressing in against Hajime’s asscheeks again as he buries his face in the nape of Hajime’s neck, rubbing his forehead against Hajime’s skin as he grits his teeth, whining out Hajime’s name, not trying to hide the desperation or breathlessness.

He continues to tease Hajime’s nipples after his breathing steadies, straightening back as he gets back into kneeling position, pressing one knee between Hajime’s legs again as he sits down onto the backsides of his ankles in a formal sitting position, reaching down around Hajime’s waist and pulling him up to sit in his lap. Hajime lets him, leaning back against Tooru’s chest with a hum, his head lolling back as he faces the water falling down on them from above again, just as Tooru reaches one hand down, grabbing his cock.

Hajime’s entire body tenses, his hand reaching up to grab Tooru’s wrist, but he doesn’t try to stop him, pressing his ass against Tooru’s crotch instead, breathing heavily as he leans his head back further, tilting it slightly to the side so he’s resting it against the side of Tooru’s head, leaning in against him.

Tooru starts pumping Hajime’s cock, his tempo only quickening when Hajime squirms in his grab, huffing until his breathing turns into moans again, and with his other hand, Tooru reaches up under the shirt, covering and sticking to his chest, teasing at Hajime’s nipple again, mouthing at the side of Hajime’s neck lazily, his teeth grazing over the warm, wet skin.

Hajime doesn’t last long either, coming hot over Tooru’s fingers and his own chest, but the water mixes with the come fast, washing away most of it, and Tooru hums in satisfaction, wiping his hand on Hajime’s stomach as he waits for Hajime’s breathing to calm down.

 

“Help me get this stupid shirt off and I’ll help you wash your hair,” Hajime says after they’ve pulled away from each other, raising his hands over his head, and Tooru reaches out, pulling the heavy fabric clinging to Hajime’s chest and shoulders up over his face.

“Just like when we were young— _ wait, _ you admit it!” Tooru says as he pulls it completely over Hajime’s head, and Hajime looks at him in confusion before realization dawns on him.

“Admit what—no! It’s cool!” he snaps, pulling the t-shirt out of Tooru’s hands before throwing it onto the floor as well, rolling his eyes as Tooru reaches out, pulling him closer again.

“I can barely concentrate around you as it is, Iwa-chan,” Tooru mumbles pitifully against Hajime’s neck, not complaining when Hajime reaches up to change the temperature, the water slowly warming up to the usual shower-temperature. 

“How do you think I feel?” Hajime asks as if he has any idea how much Tooru has to suffer,  _ way _ too easily keeping concentrated on the task at hand as he pulls away slightly, moving to stand up. “Hand me the shampoo, I’ll help you with your hair,” Hajime says, and when Tooru looks up, his torso is right in front of Tooru’s face, his abs and abdomen  _ right _ in Tooru’s field of vision, and once again, he makes Tooru lose his concentration completely.


End file.
